


All you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach. Don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash.

by imadetheline



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Fire and Ice, Introspection, M/M, Understanding, kinda a study of their differences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26675476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadetheline/pseuds/imadetheline
Summary: He doesn’t need anyone understanding him the way he understands them.The world’s not meant to work that way. So it doesn’t. And they never get too close. And Will’s not happy but at least he’s not understood. That would be worse.Or: Hannibal understands Will where their differences meet
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 12





	All you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach. Don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash.

**Author's Note:**

> title from Hozier’s arsonist’s lullabye
> 
> just something i wanted to write down about the differences between hannibal and will. in my head they’re like fire and ice - identically different. i have many thoughts about this and this is just some of them so. hope you enjoy!

Will’s always cold.

It’s easier to hide in Virginia than in muggy Louisiana. The rare times someone has an occasion to touch him they pull back as if shocked and they remark on his cold skin conversationally and tell him to get heavier jackets and then they don’t touch him again. Will doesn’t mind. It’s the least of things that keep them away from him. They’re sooner to avoid him for the ice in his eyes or the freezing thoughts in his mind, but it’s useful as a last defense mechanism for those trying to get too close, to understand.

He doesn’t need anyone understanding him the way he understands them.

The world’s not meant to work that way. So it doesn’t. And they never get too close. And Will’s not happy but at least he’s not understood. That would be worse.

...

Hannibal’s always warm. 

Will notices it as soon as they meet. The man, he’s too similar, too the same. He blends. His eyes flash and his skin is warm. He’s a reflection of every person who touches him. They only see themselves. 

Will sees himself too.

And he knows. He sees the bloody smiles and violence reflected back at him and it fits. It fits all too well to only be a reflection. Will is himself. This man is not. Will feels like others sometimes but that only makes him more different. He’s never able to reflect their feelings back at them, only understand them. So he withdraws from their scorn. 

This man, Hannibal, takes their emotions and twists them into a perfect portrait, a polished version of themselves to disguise his blood-stained smile. Will sees it because it is his own. He knows. And he says nothing.

His skin burns where it meets Will’s, quiet flames creeping into his veins, trying to melt the ice that holds him together. Hannibal doesn’t pull back or comment on the cold in his skin when they touch for the first time. He just studies Will for a moment and then turns away.

Will feels empty, like that slight touch sucked all the cold from his bones, the ice that he’s built into safety.

The man’s presence is flames and smoke suffocating Will as he stands, trapped. Hannibal does not have to try to understand. He already does. The ice under Will’s skin has not frozen him out but melted at his touch. Will feels naked. He feels understood. It’s worse than he could have imagined.

Will brushes his fingers across his cheek. They’re still cold. He exhales in relief. If he never feels fire like that again he’ll be content. 

He’s never content.

...

He knows he’s other. He’s been told it all his life. His skin is too cold, his eyes too blue. He feels too much and he doesn’t feel at all. He finds they’re often the same, too much and not enough: both too different. The world swirls around him, leaving him untouched.

No one ever feels safe in his presence. He thinks they’re probably right. He doesn’t feel safe in his presence. He’s not always there. People notice. He doesn’t.

Hannibal seems to notice it. He and Will are the same, identically different. Hannibal is as other as him, just differently other: fire and ice, the end of the world. Will just wants him gone. But since when does Will get what he wants?

So Hannibal doesn’t leave. He doesn’t take the knowledge of his victory in understanding Will and leave Will to rebuild the cracks in his walls. No, he stays. His flames continue to burn in Will’s periphery, steadily moving closer. Will sees them. He pretends he doesn’t. Where else would he go? Nowhere. Besides, the fire is fascinating. It curls round his fingers and whispers in his ears. It’s warm and it’s beautiful and it burns. Oh how it burns. So he lets them lick at his bones, melt his skin until he’s a puddle on the floor and someone he recognizes all too well stands in his place. It’s the reflection of himself he sees when he looks into Hannibal’s dark eyes, the one carved out of bone and blood, so much blood.

Will tries to pull back then, reclaim some of the man he used to know, before the fire scorches the last of him to ash. He builds himself into a fragile shell around the bloody reflection. But the flames don’t stop flickering and beckoning, promising perfect pictures of vengeance and Will knows it’s a perfectly constructed lie but he doesn’t care. His life is a lie, an illusion. He’s already dead. His skin as cold as a corpse, his eyes just as haunted. What’s one more ghost in his mind, even if it is his own?

Hannibal seems to understand. He has enough life for both of them.

And so the fire burns and burns and scorches him and he doesn’t stop reaching. He craves the burn. Will thinks it’s the most he’s felt in years that’s been all his own, not stolen or absorbed from a passing person, a passing killer.

And then they’re standing above the water and it calls to his burned soul, an endless balm, a reprieve. And Will knows it’s the end, wants it to be the end, before he’s fully replaced by the bloody reflection pushing at his skin, burning, escaping from the ice like a monster imprisoned. He wants to feel the bliss of the cool ocean soothing his charred soul.

So Will tips them into the sea before Hannibal can pull them into the flames. 

They end up surrounded by flames anyway.

Will’s still cold.

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys liked it leave a comment. They make my day! Seriously I love reading them so please leave me one cause they motivate me to write more! if you guys have ideas for other one-shots send me an ask on tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/imadetheline) or just yell about stuff with me. I also have another tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/soithinkicanwrite) for all my writing stuff and one [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/madness-shared-by-two) for everything hannibal. Thanks for reading!


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